A Marriage of Dragons
by ButInEssenceDivided
Summary: Ursa and Ozai's love story was never easy. From their betrothal to Ursa's banishment, their relationship was a power struggle between two dragons.
1. Betrothal

Ursa and Lien peered around the bannister at the top of the staircase. Below them, the entire household, even Ursa's father, knelt before the royal procession led by fire sages. A gong rang out, and the lead sage bowed to Ursa's father and motioned for him to stand up and follow him. No one said a word or even looked up from the floor.

"What do you think is going on?" Lien said and her throaty voice rumbled down the stairs. Nearly fifty pairs of eyes snapped upwards, and their Auntie Bao caught their eyes and purpled with anger. Ursa pulled Lien by the sleeve, yanking her out of sight.

Ursa was shaking with laughter, her fist stuffed into own mouth. "Come on, Lien, be quiet! Do you want to be scrubbing silver with the servants until the solstice?"

"Did you see the look on Auntie Bao's face, though?" Lien snorted, and Ursa dissolved into giggles. The two cousins shared only the same booming laugh. Lien was bold and brash. She spoke her mind, and loudly at that. Ursa was sneakier. She could get away with murder by batting her eyelashes and smiling demurely behind a fan.

"Girls, you will bring shame to our entire house! Dishonor will rain down on us! Dishonor!" said Ursa dramatically, clutching her heart.

"You belong to the noble line of Avatar Roku. Behave like young ladies!"

Lien was cut short by a voice behind them. "Yes. Do behave like young ladies." The girls cringed and turned to face Auntie Bao, whose lips were pursed and whose wide, squat frame darkened the stairwell. "Why are you not kneeling before our guests?" She snapped her fan together and used it to smack each girl on the back of the head.

A flurry of women came flying up the stairs. "Ursa, we don't have much time! We have to get you ready! Hurry!" Auntie Wen, Lien's mother, squawked.

Ursa's own mother said nothing, but took charge, tight-lipped and pale faced. She wrestled Ursa into her finest clothes, a long golden gown embroidered with blood colored thread. The sash was pulled tight, Ursa's lips were painted with red, and her long hair was braided.

"No, no, no!" Auntie Bao flapped her hands. "Hair down? Completely inappropriate!"

Ursa winced as her hair was yanked into a high bun. "What's wrong with my hair? I always wear it down."

"Not any more you don't," said Auntie Bao tersely.

In a rare gesture of tenderness, Ursa's mother cupped Ursa's face in her smooth hands. "The fire sages had a vision about you," she said. "That can only mean one thing. They have come to arrange your marriage."

Ursa's hands flew to her hair - the hairstyle of a married woman. "What? What do the fire sages have to do with it?" She had watched countless cousins get married, but it was always arranged by parents and the family diviner.

"Your husband must be important," said Lien. "No rice farmers for you."

"Come along. You are ready," said Ursa's mother.

Grabbing for Lien's hand, Ursa said, "Can't Lien come with me?"

Auntie Bao shook her head violently. "Not if we want this engagement to be sealed! Ursa, obey your mother."

Every face of every boy she had ever known flickered through Ursa's thoughts. With Lien's words in mind, she pictured generals and courtiers. A future she did want took shape in her imagination, and Ursa saw herself standing dutifully beside a faceless husband in a military uniform. Rank and power for a man meant silence and submission for a woman.

"Mother what if I don't want to -"

"Ursa, hush. You must make a good impression. Your life is about to change."

Ursa stepped alone through the doors of the family temple.

The elders of her family were kneeling before the fire sages, and leaping flames separated the two groups. Ursa bowed deeply and took her place beside her father.

"Stand, Ursa, daughter of Hayou," said a fire sage priestess. The flames burned higher and brighter as Ursa rose.

"Deep in the fire temples, we have seen visions of a great future for you. A future of unimaginable power and the potential to change the world."

_Definitely not a rice farmer, then._

"The family of Avatar Roku and the line of Sozin has been joined in friendship for generations. It is time for that bond to be sealed."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Members of the family gasped.

"The second son of the royal family is about to return from his military duty in the Earth Kingdom. On the day of the summer solstice, you will marry Prince Ozai, son of Fire Lord Azulon, grandson of the great Fire Lord Sozin." The voice of the fire sage rang out through the temple, and fire flickered oddly in Ursa's eyes. She said nothing. She did not weep with joy or thank the spirits for her fate. She did not even bow.

"Do you accept?"

"I accept."

Flames wound their way around her wrists in a burning ring.

"The betrothal is sealed."


	2. Unknown

It was a long night of ceremonies and contracts, bowing, and smiling before Ursa was finally allowed to go to bed. The fire sages served to represent her husband-to-be. She wouldn't meet him until the wedding, and his family was far too important and busy to pay visits. Ursa padded softly into the long dormitory she shared with her cousins. The younger girls were fast asleep but a lamp flickered at the end of the room, beside Lien's bed.

"Is it true?" Lien pounced.

"What did you hear?" Ursa unwound the tight fabric of her dress.

"That you're engaged - to Prince Ozai!"

She struggled to pull her hair free. The more tangled it got, the harder she pulled, and before she knew it, tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"Ursa!" Lien was at her side immediately. With gentle fingers, her cousin untied Ursa's hair. "It's going to be all right. So it's . . . true?"

Ursa nodded.

Lien gave a low whistle. "You're going to be a princess! Hey, you could even be queen, Prince Ozai is what, third in line for the throne?"

Ursa wrapped her arms around herself and collapsed onto her bed.

"I'm sorry," Lien said. "I'm not making this any better, am I?"

"No, no you are not." Ursa's voice was muffled by a mouthful of downy pillow.

"At least you've met him?" Lien offered. "I mean, you could have married a complete stranger. Ugh, a governor in the colonies or something. And you know what he looks like, he looks pretty handsome in that statue in town."

"I don't know whether a fire festival when we were kids really counts as having met him."

"You did shoot an awful lot of fire his way. I bet he hasn't forgotten that."

Ursa groaned. She had been six years old when her family had attended a celebration in the capital city. A boy about her age had been scaring the little children by shooting flames at them. Ursa had decided to give the boy a taste of his own medicine, and had knocked him off his feet with a wave of fire.

Before the boy could retaliate, Auntie Bao had grabbed Ursa by the arm and boxed her ears. She had knelt to apologize before the little boy prince and forced Ursa to do the same. After such a display of Ursa's firebending power, she had never been allowed to learn anything beyond basic bending forms.

"That was an inauspicious beginning," Ursa said.

"You sound like an old auntie," said Lien. "I'd say it was hot!"


	3. Tea

Ursa trembled like a leaf from the uppermost braid of her elaborate hairstyle to the tiny red slippers that had been a gift from the Fire Lord's family.

Her mother did everything twice, smoothing Ursa's hair, arranging her bangles, tying and retying the sash of her gown. Worry folded her face into tense lines.

Auntie Bao was rougher in her anxiety. She smacked Ursa to stand up straighter, pinched her wan cheeks to give them color, and droned instructions in a long, endless hiss. "Keep your gaze on the floor. Only reveal your hands to pour the tea. Don't use too much force in your bending. Don't trip! Bow to the Fire Lord and the Prince. You are lucky the Fire Lord's wife is passed, may her spirit burn forever. Even the Fire Lord is not as fearsome as a mother-in-law."

Even Lien was subdued. She squeezed Ursa's hand. "Good luck," she said, and she gave Ursa a little push towards the door.

It was time to face her husband's family.

Through the gauze of her red veil, she could see Fire Lord Azulon and Crown Prince Iroh on raised pedestals above the men of Ursa's family. She would not meet Ozai until the ceremony, but meeting the elders of his family was even more important.

Realizing she had stood at the threshold for too long, she hastened to pick up the delicate porcelain tea pot with lily fingers and glide to the pedestals as quickly as she could. She exhaled with relief when she made it without spilling a drop, careful not to make a sound. With perfect posture and graceful fingers, she prepared the tea and promptly extinguished the flame. _Fold like a lotus_, she reminded herself as she bent to press her forehead to the floor at the feet of the Fire Lord. She poured Azulon his tea. Keeping her eyes trained on her feet, she saw nothing but felt the heat of the Fire Lord's hand as he wordlessly accepted the cup.

In the silence of the hall, the only sound was Azulon sipping his tea and Ursa pictured pursed, disapproving lips curled in disgust. Without looking up, she moved to the right and poured tea for the crown prince.

Ursa bowed once more and was about to back out of the hall when Prince Iroh broke tradition and spoke to the bride-to-be. "This jasmine tea is sublime! Welcome to the family, Lady Ursa!"

Involuntarily, Ursa glanced upwards and looked Iroh full in the face. She froze, horrified, but Prince Iroh only smiled kindly. Despite everything she knew about the royal family, there was no mistrusting that face, and the smile Ursa returned with was genuine.


	4. The Rooftop

Ursa tossed and turned in the unfamiliar bed with its cool silk sheets and rich crimson hangings. These would be her apartments for the rest of her life but the big lonely room did not feel like a home. Of course, the next night she would not be in this bed. She was soon on her feet and pacing again, when suddenly there was a gentle knock at the door.

A servant girl about her own age was on the threshold, carrying a plain red box. "A gift from your husband," she said, and bowed quickly before disappearing.

Had everyone forgotten to tell her about some royal tradition? Ursa tore the box open to find a fine and delicate fan made of ivory. Snapping it open, she saw that the golden silk was not decorated with flowers or butterfly designs but with flames and a few simple words. The stitching was large but neat, and it read: Rooftop pavilion, tonight, an hour before midnight. She almost dropped the fan in surprise. The message concluded with the royal insignia. It had to be from Prince Ozai.

This was not traditional. This was not decent. To go, she would be breaking every rule, and possibly even the law. _What is he playing at?_ Ursa wondered. Then she realized that her husband-to-be was probably motivated by the same curiosity that had burned inside her for months now. If she went, she would be obeying her husband. Fulfilling her role as a dutiful wife . . . just a little early.

Quickly, she pulled on a red summer tunic and pinned up her hair. She had no intention of going too far against tradition, and she covered her face with a gauzy veil.

Ursa hadn't spent a childhood raising hell with Lien to be stopped by a few old guards. She extinguished every light she came to and slipped to the roof unseen in darkness. There was not a sound to be heard in the quiet blackness except for the swaying of flowers and plants in the warm summer breeze.

"Hello?" she whispered.

Nothing. Nothing, nothing, until, at last a voice answered her. "So you're not as obedient and boring as I've been led to believe."

Her hands flew to her hips and without caring that she was speaking to the son of the Fire Lord, she said, "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" She squinted in the darkness. "Where are you?"

Ozai coughed pointedly, and Ursa made out a figure lounging on a ledge. "This needlepoint, did you do it yourself?" she asked, opening the fan and putting it over her face.

"Yes."

"You have a delicate hand," Ursa tried not to snicker.

"All warriors learn the arts. My brother studied tea ceremonies. I mastered a needle like a tiny sword."

"I did not realize my husband was so cultured."

"Enough about me. My father tells me your grace and manners befit your rank," said Ozai."My brother says you are beautiful and prepare some of the best tea he has ever tasted."

"They are very kind," said Ursa politely.

"But I don't care about any of that. Well, except beauty. I do care about beauty."

"Nice to know that everything I've spent my life learning is meaningless, then," said Ursa.

"You know what I do care about?" Ozai jumped down from the ledge. Ursa refused to show her surprise and Ozai refused to step out of the shadows.

"Are you actually going to make me ask?"

"Yes."

Ursa sighed. "What do you care about, Prince Ozai?"

"I care about firebending. They tell me you're a bender."

For the first time, Ursa found herself blushing. "I was never allowed to learn the fighting forms."

"That's a shame. I seem to remember you having a lot of firepower."

"You - you remember that?" Ursa's cheeks burned.

"Not many little girls would firebend at a prince."

"I wonder whether we would still be betrothed if the sages knew about that."

"Do it," Prince Ozai commanded.

"What?"

"Firebend. Right now. You can light a lantern, can't you? That's ladylike, is it not?"

The balcony was strung with unlit lanterns. It was a further distance than Ursa had firebended in a long time, but she took aim and shot a flame. Light flooded the rooftop, and though his back was still to her, Ursa could clearly see Prince Ozai's long black hair and muscular frame.

"That wasn't bad. I'll teach you firebending as a wedding present," he said. "Watch carefully." Moving so fast his arms appeared blurred, he shot in every direction until all of the remaining lanterns were lit. At last, his face was illuminated. Behind her veil, Ursa saw that he was just as handsome as she had always heard. Sharp cheekbones carved his face, which ended with a proud chin and a short black beard. Ursa covered her face with the fan again as Prince Ozai's dark, piercing eyes drank her in. As quickly as the lanterns had been lit, Prince Ozai extinguished them.

"Good night, Lady Ursa. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ursa stood alone on the rooftop, staring out over the capital city.


	5. Dragon Wedding

"Wake up, Lady Ursa!" an unfamiliar hand was shaking her shoulder, and a voice with the capital accent broke the morning silence.

Ursa curled into herself, keeping her eyes shut tight. Why was she so tired? Then Ozai's face flashed in her mind's eye and she remembered last night on the rooftop. She remembered where she was. She remembered that it was her wedding day.

Servant women were clustered around her bed. "We are here to help you get ready," one said, bowing. Ursa had servants back home, but they were practically part of the family. She didn't think she would ever get used to having legions of servants that literally kissed the floor she walked on follow her everywhere she went.

"Thank you," Ursa tried to be polite as her hair was braided so tight she was surprised it wasn't being pulled out of her scalp. "But where is my mother? My cousins?"

"Not to worry, not to worry," said one of the servants. "But it is traditional for the groom's family to help the bride get ready. Since the prince has no female relatives, may their spirits burn forever, we are helping you."

"Oh." Ursa had forgotten how few women there would be in the palace. She was being cut off from her family and she would find no replacements within the high walls.

Hours passed before a mirror was finally set before Ursa. She peered at her reflection through eyes lined with kohl. Everything about her flickered like a flame in a firebender's palm. Gold and rubies were heaped around her neck, glinted at her earlobes, and curled their way up her arms. Her hair was an ornate maze topped with a scarlet veil that fell in waves over her shoulders. Her silk gown shone with every color of fire, from the red of the full skirt to the deep orange of the tight bodice. Suddenly, more faces appeared in the mirror. Whirling around, Ursa found herself surrounded by her mother, aunts, and cousins who oohed and aahed.

"You look ravishing!" Lien trilled, throwing her arms around Ursa.

"It's all a little gaudy," said Auntie Bao. "But they are royalty, I suppose."

"Oh, Ursa." Her mother's voice was a whisper in the chamber that rang with laughter and excitement. "You look perfect, but I have something to add." A delicate chain dangled from Ursa's mother's fingers. Looking closer, Ursa realized that the design was actually made up of tiny dragons.

"Avatar Roku gave this to your grandmother Ta Min on their wedding day." Ursa's mother gently clasped the chain around her daughter's neck.

"Thank you," said Ursa, blinking back tears.

A woman appeared at the doorway. "It is time!" she announced. Ursa's mother arranged Ursa's veil to cover her face, gave her hands a final squeeze, and let her go.

The wedding ceremony took place on the grand pavilion outside the palace. Hearing the deafening din and squinting through her veil, Ursa was certain that the entire city, if not the entire Fire Nation, was outside. When she appeared, applause rolled through the audience. Fire Lord Azulon, high on his throne, did not clap but inclined his head politely. Prince Iroh, his wife at his side and his son on his knee, applauded as enthusiastically as any of the commoners. In the first row, Ursa saw her entire family, and could hear Lien wolf-whistling. Prince Ozai took her hands firmly, but he did not look at her. He looked over her, surveying the crowd imperiously as a fire sage read the rites.

Prince Ozai did not let go of her hands until the end of the ceremony, when the couple bent fire onto a torch. The crowd gasped when the prince unleashed a blue blaze that leapt ten feet high. Unwilling to be outdone, Ursa summoned as much fire as she could control and sent it to join Ozai's. The red and blue flames burned together, spitting embers and crackling like thunder. The crowd was silent and then burst into a storm of awe.

Princess Ursa bowed to the people, and the people bowed back. She stepped lightly into the waiting palanquin, and Prince Ozai followed her, waving at the well wishers before pulling the curtain shut.

Alone at last, with no veil or fan between them, Ozai and Ursa stared at each other as the palanquin carried them away. Feeling panicky, it occurred to Ursa that she had no idea how to address her husband.

"You are very beautiful," said Prince Ozai matter-of-factly. "My brother is many things, but he's not a liar, and he knows a pretty face when he sees one."

"Um," said Ursa. "Thank you."

Ozai shrugged. "You ought to address me as 'my lord'."

"And if I do not?"

The prince's eyebrows shot upwards. "Well, any number of things could happen."

"I didn't ask what could happen. I asked what would happen," said Ursa shortly.

"Well aren't you something," Ozai mused. "I should have known from that firebending at the ceremony. You're lucky you'll have a master to teach you control."

"I don't need you to _control _anything about me," said Ursa.

For the first time, Prince Ozai's crooked smile flashed like his lightning.


	6. Night of the Dragons

Ursa was grateful for the clamor of the party that kept her and Ozai preoccupied and apart. They analyzed each other like two calculating pai sho players, each trying to destroy their opponent. Too soon, night fell and Ursa was whisked away above whoops and cheers.

Alone in a new chamber, Ursa relished what she knew to be her last moments of solitude. Piece by piece, she pulled off the heavy jewelry until only her grandmother's dragon chain remained. That, she decided, would stay. She threw her veil on the floor and stripped off her heavy gown, gulping in air when she was finally free of its tight constraints. The only clothes for her to change into was a gauzy red shift hanging on a hook. The filmy fabric glittered on her skin as she pulled her hair free of its braids and headpiece.

Scrutinizing herself in the mirror, Ursa finally looked like herself again. With her hair tumbling down her back, she looked _too_ much like her old self. She looked innocent and vulnerable, and the last thing she wanted was to show Ozai any sign of weakness. She pulled her hair into a top knot and crowned it with the headpiece.

There was giggling outside, and Ursa rolled her eyes before opening the door to her new ladies-in-waiting.

"Hello," she said curtly.

The women, barely older than her, bowed. "Follow us, please, Princess Ursa," they chorused.

They left her standing before great gold doors. Ursa took a deep breath and rapped the knocker. It opened, and Prince Ozai's frame darkened the doorway. He too had shed his elaborate wedding clothes for a simple pair of robes.

"Look at you," he said, surveying her from her headpiece to her satin slippers. He wrapped an arm around her waist tightly and pulled her inside. The room was as big as the hall of Ursa's home. A fireworks display lit up the city outside enormous windows.

"Those are for us," said Ozai when he saw how Ursa's eyes lingered on the fireworks. His hands moved slowly down her back, and Ursa pulled away.

"You said you would teach me advanced firebending," she said.

"What, now?" Ozai smirked. "I suppose that could be fun."

"My thoughts exactly," said Ursa, perching on the bed and letting her legs swing freely. "What can you teach me, _my lord?"_

Unable to resist showing off, Ozai drew back a fist and sent a jet of fire out an open window, immediately followed by another. The two flames joined in a spectacular firework.

Ursa sprang to her feet and copied Ozai's stance. She clenched her hand as tightly as she could, and sent ribbons of fire flying in all directions. She jumped backwards, but they fizzled out quickly. Ozai laughed and Ursa seethed.

The new bride ignored her husband as she concentrated on the firebending form. "One-two," she murmured to herself as she tried to control the twin jets of fire. "One-two!" Ozai lounged on the bed, watching her avidly. He didn't know what to make of this creature who, unlike anyone he'd ever met before, refused to give him what he wanted.

A dozen attempts later, the flames surged out the window as Ozai's had. A firework hurtled towards the moon and then rained down over the city. Ozai couldn't conceal his surprise, nor could he conceal how impressed he was. "That was - that was -"

Ursa beamed. "I know!" she squealed. She leaned down and pressed her lips to Ozai's. He kissed her back, and she tasted smoke. Fireworks exploded behind them until at last, they broke apart.

"What, that was only worth a kiss?" Ozai asked when Ursa slipped away.

She only smirked at him.

"Fair enough," he said. "What would you say _this _is worth?" Electric blue lightning split the room in two. With quick arm movements, Ozai sent fire the color and size of ocean waves around Ursa and himself. When the fire disappeared, not so much as a cushion was singed. Only the candles were robbed of their light.

The only light in the room was the dragon chain, glinting on Ursa's bare collar bone. She kissed Ozai again."That," she said, snaking her arms around his neck, "Might be worth a little more."


	7. Ember Island

Moonlight spilled through the open window that looked out over the Ember Island beach. Ozai's arms encircled Ursa and she nestled closer to his hard, bare chest. He was slick with sweat, but so was she. Her long hair was loose and it fanned out over the silken sheets. More than anything else, it was free hair that felt intimate.

"The firstborn is always a son. It has been so in my family for generations before even Fire Lord Sozin," Ozai whispered.

"And if it is not?"

"Oh it doesn't matter to me. That's just how it's always been."

"My family was disappointed to have only a girl," said Ursa. "My parents pretended it wasn't so, but my aunt reminded me every day."

Ozai stroked her hair. "When we have a daughter," he began, "I will dote on her as a father does to a princess. But I will teach her as a son. She will not be confined to the inner palace."

"And if she is a bender?"

"If she is half as powerful as her mother it would be a travesty to waste the spirits' gift. I will train her in the fighting forms."

Ursa kissed her husband all over, up, up, up till she reached his lips.

"You will be a wonderful father," she whispered.

"And you a mother."


	8. Lucky To Be Born

If she wasn't sweating, feverish, and gasping for water, Ursa was shivering, clammy, and icy cold to the touch. The migraines were ceaseless. Sleep was the only respite, but she was lucky if she could capture a few hours before the baby's restless kicking woke her up.

She grew weaker by the day, and only four months into her pregnancy she was too frail to move from her bed. It was a summer day, but Ursa's teeth were chattering. Ozai never moved from her side. He bended gentle, flickering flames to surround and warm her, but there was nothing he could do. An endless parade of healers and fire sages were called into the royal chambers, and they all said the same thing.

"The spirits are at war over this child."

"This child's destiny is unfathomable. Hot and cold, dark and light, do battle and there is no telling which will win out."

"Turmoil and strife will follow the child out of the womb," said an old fire sage, standing over Ursa's bedside. "He will never know peace."

"Don't say that!" said Ursa. "Don't say that about my son!" It wasn't until she said it that she knew what the family said was true: her firstborn would be a boy.

She cradled her arms protectively around her belly as the fire sage mumbled apologies but did not retract his words. "Beg pardon, your highness, but your son's path is not clear to me."

"It will be up to him to choose his own path!" Ursa said ferociously. Ozai was at her side immediately, his strong arms around her.

"Leave at once," he said angrily to the fire sage.

Alone with Ozai, tears rolled down Ursa's cheeks. "I'm afraid," she said. "I'm afraid for the baby." She expected Ozai to smooth her hair, hold her close, and offer comforting words. Instead, his warmth left her and he strode across the room to stare out the window over the city.

"I know it's wrong to blame the child," he began pensively.

Ursa faltered. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I know it's wrong to blame the child for how sick you are. For how much pain you're in. But I can't help it. The sages are right. This child is an evil spirit."

"How dare you! That's your son you're talking about!"

Ozai turned to face Ursa again, and his brow was creased with worry. "I hate to see you suffer. I'm afraid - I couldn't bear it if -"

"Oh don't you worry about me," said Ursa. She recoiled from his touch.

Her icy tone hardened something in Ozai's eyes. "Mark my words," he said. "That child will be lucky to be born."


	9. Rising Sun

The rising sun cleaved the sky in two, lighting up the bedchamber. Ursa clutched Ozai's hand so tightly his knuckles turned white. She screamed as the sun climbed higher and higher. By the time the sun cleared the horizon, a new voice rang out. The baby was crying at the top of its lungs.

"It's a boy!" Ozai cried.

"I knew it," Ursa whispered. She sank into her pillows and stretched her arms out for her son, but the midwife clucked her tongue and insisted on whisking the baby away to clean and swaddle him in red blankets.

"I - am - so - relieved," Ozai said haltingly, stroking Ursa's hair. "I was so afraid that you might - of what might have happened." A long and difficult birth had ended a pregnancy wracked with complications. More than once, it had looked as though mother and child wouldn't survive the night.

"Ozai, I'm fine," she said, smiling up at him. "But I want to see the baby _now - _oh!" The midwife placed the child in Ursa's waiting arms. A round face, slightly red from all his squalling, looked up at her with big amber eyes. From his downy black hair to ten tiny toes, the newborn prince had not so much as a birthmark marring his smooth, unblemished skin.

"He's - he's perfect," Ursa sighed, clutching him to her chest.

Nine months of warnings and omens and foreboding fell away when Ozai looked down at his wife and son. "Yes," he said. "Yes he is." Ozai reached down to stroke the baby's face and a little hand curled around his finger. Clutching his father and held tightly by his mother, the baby settled down into sleep, basking in his parents' love.


	10. Ambition

Ursa reclined in the shade of the courtyard, dangling her feet into the coolness of the pond. She kept a close eye on Zuko, who splashed in the shallows with the turtle ducklings. Ozai insisted on fanning her himself. The old fan he had embroidered for her so long ago wafted a cool breeze towards Ursa.

"This baby is a lot easier on its mother than its brother was," Ozai laughed when Ursa sighed contentedly, one hand resting on her abdomen.

"I hurt mama?" Zuko looked up at his parents, his eyes wide.

"Ozai!" Ursa scolded reproachfully. She wrapped her arms around Zuko. "It was all worth it for you, my darling."

Ozai clapped Zuko on the shoulder and then gently placed his palm on Ursa's belly. The baby answered his touch with a few kicks. The baby only ever moved when Ozai was nearby. It had been a calm, easy pregnancy. Almost too calm, though healers assured Ursa there was nothing to worry about.

In fact, the only symptom Ursa had experienced was a dramatic increase in the strength of her firebending. She had mastered firebending as easily as she had mastered her duties as a princess, but her skills were nothing compared to what she could do now. Flames burned longer, brighter, and higher. They were so hot they even flickered with streaks of blue, like Ozai's bending.

"The child will be a very powerful bender!" Ozai had crowed when he saw the blue flame. "I'm sure of it!" With Ursa so healthy and the pregnancy so uncomplicated, Ozai was positively beaming with excitement to welcome his second-born.

The gate to the courtyard creaked, and Ursa and Ozai whirled around. "Iroh!" Ursa cried out in welcome. "We weren't expecting you until tonight!"

The Dragon of the West was leaning on the gate, watching the little family at the pond. His face was newly lined and grief had streaked his hair with grey. Iroh's wife had passed away, and the general was now faced with the task of not only conquering Ba Sing Se but of raising Lu Ten on his own. His miserable face split into his old smile when Ursa hurried to him as quickly as she could, Zuko toddling in her wake.

"Princess Ursa, you are as radiant as ever," said Prince Iroh, kissing her hand. "And Prince Zuko! Last time I saw you, you were no taller than a rabbit-grasshopper, my nephew!" He swung Zuko around, and Zuko giggled, grabbing tufts of Iroh's beard in his chubby fists.

Ozai had followed his family only reluctantly. "My brother!" Iroh bowed, even though as the crown prince he did not have to.

"Brother, you look well," lied Ozai. Ursa watched critically as Ozai surveyed the weakened, grief-stricken Iroh. Ozai's spine curved into a bow as though a heavy weight were crushing him. Ursa knew how much Ozai despised paying allegiance to his older brother. She could feel ambition and a lifetime of resentment emanating from him.

_Spirits save you from your own dreams, my love, _thought Ursa as the two princes clasped hands.


	11. Prodigy

Most babies cry when they are born. The princess of the Fire Nation sent clouds of black smoke flying out of flailing fists. The midwife and attendants screamed in surprise. Ursa could only stare, but Ozai could not contain his delight.

"Look at her!" he crowed. "I've never seen anything like it!"

Ozai barely let the newborn out of his arms long enough for Ursa to hold her. "They say my father could firebend from birth, too," he said, gazing adoringly at his daughter. "We should name her in his honor."

Ursa disliked the idea of saddling her baby girl with the name of her harsh, stern father-in-law, but to say so would be treason. "Azulon . . . Azula," she suggested. "We'll call her Azula."

"Perfect! That's perfect! She's perfect!" Ozai smiled from ear to ear, and Azula mirrored the crooked grin.

"She has your smile," said Ursa.

"But on your face," said Ozai. "Beautiful, just beautiful."

Visitors paraded in, and Azula squirmed and fidgeted restlessly in Ursa's arms. "Mama!" Zuko tripped over his own feet, rushing through the crowded chamber. "Mama! Mama!" He tried to clamber onto Ursa's bed, but Ozai snatched him away.

"Careful now, Zuko. Are you ready to meet your new sister?"

Zuko stared at the baby uncomprehendingly. Ursa's arms was where _he _belonged. Azula stared back, with wide, alert eyes precisely the same shade of amber.

Even Fire Lord Azulon came to meet the newest addition to the royal family. Everyone in the chamber pressed their foreheads to the floor, and even Ursa bowed her head respectfully. The baby seized her chance to wriggle her arms free of her blankets. A flame like candlelight blossomed in her tiny hand. The Fire Lord himself couldn't conceal his surprise.

"She's a prodigy!" said Ozai proudly. "A true prodigy!"

In a corner, noticed by no one but Ursa, Zuko punched the air and stomped his feet. He could muster only puffs of smoke.


	12. Sunset

"Now, now, children," Ursa called absentmindedly from underneath a parasol. Azula was chasing Zuko down a sand dune, and the two were shooting sparks at each other.

Ozai burst out of the water where he had been swimming. "It is I, the Blue Spirit!" he roared, and Zuko and Azula shrieked with laughter as Ozai chased them up and down the beach. He easily picked them up in the crook of one arm, and scooped up Ursa with the other.

"Ew, gross!" Zuko and Azula howled when their father planted a sloppy kiss on Ursa's cheek.

"Ozai!" Ursa exclaimed, but she was laughing too. The entire family collapsed onto the sand, and Ozai used firebending to dry the ocean water from their clothes.

A brilliant sunset of oranges, yellows, and pinks was painting over the clear blue sky. Ozai wrapped his arms around Ursa and bounced Zuko on his knee. Azula, tired for once, curled up on her mother's lap, put her thumb in her mouth, and fell fast asleep.

On the quiet secluded beach of Ember Island, the war, the Fire Nation, and the Fire Lord all felt very far away.


	13. Lies

Growing up, Ursa had been taught that the Fire Nation was infallible. Victory was only days away, and even though weeks, months, and years wore on, it was promised that the world would soon be hung with red. In the inner palace, it was much harder to hide from the truth. News flooded in: battles were lost, soldiers fell. Still, Ursa did her best to shield her children from the harshest realities. It was a monumental task: Zuko wanted nothing more than to follow his father into meetings, and Azula had an uncanny knack for finding out information before Ursa did. And Ursa couldn't protect her children from the toll the war took on their father.

Ozai would come out of war councils with his head in his hands after hearing about another failed strike at the Earth Kingdom. Desperate to impress Fire Lord Azulon by directing a successful campaign, he had no time for Zuko and little for Azula. Often, he spoke of returning to the battlefield himself.

Seized with fear, Ursa would always remind him that his duty was at home, at his father's side. "You're just jealous of your brother and that siege of his," she teased once, trying to lighten the mood. The anger scrawled on Ozai's face had told her she was far too close to the truth.

Ursa waited for her husband outside the war chamber, keeping her back to the colossal portrait of Azulon that leered down at all who passed. When the council ended, Ozai strode past her, but Ursa caught up.

"I don't have time," he said dismissively when she laced her fingers through his.

He stumbled when she pulled him towards the courtyard. He never ceased to be surprised by just how strong his wife was. Sunlight filtered through the cherry blossom trees as the prince and princess walked hand in hand down the cobblestone path.

"My brother's siege holds," Ozai said resentfully.

"Ozai that's good news," Ursa reminded him. "But let's not talk about the fighting."

"What else is there? The war is everything. I'm away from the fighting, and there is no glory, no honor for me. Iroh was the last dragon slayer - I never even got a chance. Iroh is the great general. Iroh is our father's heir. I'm the second son. I am nothing."

"_What else is there?_ Ozai, there is the Fire Nation, which you protect. There is our family! Zuko and Azula, do you so easily forget them? Do you forsake your son for your father?"

"No . . . no of course not." Ozai stopped walking and stared out at the pond. Ursa leaned her head on his shoulder and watched the little family of turtle ducks swimming together.

"You hate the man I've become," Ozai said after a long silence. His voice was broken and his proud, arrogant shoulders slumped downwards.

"No," Ursa said. "I love him. I love _you_." She kissed him in the shade of the cherry blossom trees, and he returned with a kiss that burned like a wildfire and tasted of familiar smoke. His hands were in her hair and her arms were around him and they might have been back on Ember Island. They might have been anywhere on Earth until a messenger coughed embarrassedly.

The couple broke apart. Ursa snapped a fan in front of her face while Ozai unfurled the scroll the blushing messenger handed to him. "Summons from the Fire Lord," Ozai sighed, glancing guiltily at Ursa.

"I understand," she said.

Ozai looked up at the sinking sun. "And I promised Azula I would teach her a new form today. It will have to wait until after dinner."

"Meet with your father," said Ursa. "And then you can teach the children their forms. Both children." Ursa's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Zuko won't be able to master this."

Ursa crossed her arms over her chest. "You have no faith in him. He will work until he gets it, and he will never give up. He needs you."

"If all of Prince Zuko's efforts actually reaped results, he'd be the greatest firebender in the world," said Ozai, and his tone made it clear that his words were not a compliment.

"And I think that counts for something," Ursa insisted.

"But don't you think Azula's talent matters? The child is a genius."

"You spoil her."

"Someone has to, her mother doesn't give a damn about her," Ozai shot back.

"How could you say that?" Ursa said furiously, rearing backwards like a cobra. "I love Azula, but I'm afraid for her -"

"You mean you are afraid of her," said Ozai.

Ursa winced. "Of course I'm not."

"Oh Ursa, we never could lie to each other," said Ozai. "I don't know why we still try."

"Just go grovel at your father's feet, why don't you," Ursa snapped.

Ozai stalked out of the courtyard. Ursa watched him go, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of pigtails whip around a corner. Heart sinking, Ursa had a terrible feeling that Azula had heard every word.


	14. White Lotus

Ursa stared into the darkness through her latticed window and sobbed. She cried for her nephew, cut down at the peak of his life. Lu Ten, heir to the throne of the Fire Nation, just one more casualty in the shadow of Ba Sing Se. More even than she cried for Lu Ten, she cried for Iroh, whose entire family now lay dead.

He had been the first person in the capital city to be kind to her. She remembered taking a wrong turn, in her first days at the palace, and walking in on the crown prince musing over his pai sho board. She had stuttered apologies, but Iroh only laughed.

"I still get lost here and this is where I was born! Tell me, do you know how to play?" He motioned to the finely painted game.

Ursa shook her head. "No, Your Highness. My father always said pai sho was a man's game."

"Call me Iroh. And with all due respect, that is certainly not true. Why I once lost the very boat I was sailing in a match against a very skilled woman on Whale Tail Island."

Ursa laughed uncertainly. Iroh patted a cushion across from him. "Please, sit down," he said. "I will teach you the novice movements."

Before long, Ursa was whipping pai sho pieces across the board, stacking them nimbly, and matching Iroh move for move.

"What have I done?" Iroh chuckled, stroking his beard. "You'll be beating me in no time at all."

"Don't you dare go easy on me," Ursa warned.

"I wouldn't dare. You are far too discerning. Cunning. Dangerous. Yes, I can see why my brother loves you."

Ursa felt her cheeks grow hot. Ozai had certainly not confessed any such feelings to her. "I - what?"

Iroh beamed. "When you have known your husband as long as I have, you will see that he is very, very bad at concealing his emotions. He's absolutely mad about you."

Taking advantage of Iroh's distraction, Ursa jumped five pieces, landing at the outer rim. Iroh gaped.

"I want you to have this pai show tile," he said, pressing the little disc into her palm. "You have certainly earned it."

Ursa turned the pai sho tile over. She couldn't remember anything like it in her father's well-polished set. Painted in an elegant hand was a delicate white lotus.

"In the city of fire, it can be hard to know whom to trust," said Iroh. "But those who know the secrets of the flower can always be counted as friends."

Ursa wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and then reached into the folds of her mourning gown. Her fingers closed around the familiar weight of the tile when she heard voices coming from the children's rooms.

She hurried out of her apartments, and stopped to listen outside Zuko's door.

"Stop it, you're lying. Dad would never do that to me."

Ursa flung the doors open. "Your father would never do what to you?" she demanded.

She didn't know what Ozai wouldn't do anymore.


	15. Treason

It wasn't difficult to get Azula to spill her secrets. After overhearing her taunting Zuko, Ursa dragged Azula back to her own room. Tripping over the toys and dolls Azula had strewn away in disgust or during tantrums, Ursa kept a tight grasp on her daughter. Azula squirmed and made her hands sear hot as iron, but Ursa did not let go.

"What were you talking about? What is your father going to do to Zuko?"

"Dad asked Fire Lord Azulon to make him his heir, Grandfather got mad and said Dad had to learn respect. He's making Dad kill Zuko," Azula said it all in a singsong voice. She seemed to relish her mother's horror.

Ursa was hurtling through darkness. She was falling, falling, falling, and then she felt as though her head slammed against a stone, brutally forcing her into reality. A deadly purpose took possession of her. She yanked Azula into bed, tucked her in tightly, and locked the bedroom.

Ursa leaned against the door from the outside, breathing slowly. Should she stand vigil, guarding Zuko? Should she rip the Fire Lord limb from limb? Or should she go to Ozai and unleash every firebending form he had ever taught her?

_Zuko first. _There was never really any question about it. She ordered her most trusted guards to form a wall outside Zuko's bedroom.

"Let no one in. I want you to be the Wall of Ba Sing Se - the Fire Nation could never get through that either," Ursa ordered. "Not even Prince Ozai," she added, before turning on her heel and flying to Ozai's chambers as fast as her legs could carry her. The gilded doors were locked and Ursa made to wrench the knocker off its handle before considering how much noise it would make. Instead, she burnt down the door in a silent blaze.

"What the -" Ozai whirled around in terror. He had been sitting cross legged before an altar, meditating, but he jumped up to face Ursa.

She spat at his feet.

"Yes, pray to the spirits," she hissed. "Praying for the courage to kill a defenseless child?"

Ozai's face crumpled. "It's the only way - I have to obey the Fire Lord -"

"Listen to yourself," said Ursa scathingly. Her eyes fell upon an unsheathed sword on Ozai's altar. She swayed on her feet. This time she really was falling. Ozai's hands closed around her wrists before she hit the ground.

"Don't you touch me!" Ursa lurched backwards. "Is that - is that what you were planning to use?" Bile rose in her throat.

Ozai said nothing.

"This won't change anything, you know. You still won't be the firstborn, and you won't have a firstborn either."

Still, Ozai was silent.

"Say something to me!" Ursa screamed. She had too much raw rage to bother with bending: she launched herself towards Ozai and raked her fingernails down every bit of bare skin she could find. "Aren't you even going to defend yourself? I asked you once to choose between your son and your father. The answer is clear now."

"If I don't do this, he could kill us all."

Ursa stared at the despicable being before her that was the man she loved. "And if your father were asking you to kill Azula . . . what then?"

"The Fire Lord . . . knows what is best," Ozai said, not meeting Ursa's eyes.

"What if he were not the Fire Lord?" Ursa said, almost more to herself than to Ozai.

"What are you talking about?"

"What if you were to come to the throne? Then it would be your divine decisions that would rule."

"Ursa, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that your father's reign could come to an end," said Ursa.

"Impossible. There is no one alive who can beat the Fire Lord at an Agni Kai."

"Agni Kai aren't the only way to kill someone."

"That's treason," Ozai said hoarsely. "That's murder."

"Yes," said Ursa. "Yes, it is."


	16. Murder

_I could just as easily kill you, _Ursa thought as Ozai mapped out an escape plan. She hated this man, who had transitioned so easily from plotting the death of his son to plotting the death of his father.

"You cannot be seen going into the inner sanctuary," he said for what must have been the thousandth time. "There are guards I can trust after it is done. But before - we are traitors." He cringed.

"Don't act like such a victim. It's Azulon who is dying, and it is Iroh whose throne you are stealing," Ursa said. She was not loyal to the Fire Lord, but there was a twinge in her heart at what she was doing to Iroh. "Before dawn, you'll have what you always wanted," she finished tersely.

There was no denying the gleam in Ozai's eyes at these words.

"You'll take the kingdom, you'll take the world, you'll take a new queen," said Ursa coldly.

"I would never," said Ozai.

"Then you will keep me, the murderess? Your father's killer will sleep in your bed?"

Ozai raised his chin. "The penalty for treason is banishment."

"I knew you would uphold the law."

A messenger hawk tapped the window. Ozai snatched it, and Ursa sheathed her dual swords.

"Now?" she asked.

"Now."

She walked towards the back door, a silent funeral procession of one.

"Please - Ursa - be careful - I will help you. Please. I couldn't bear it if -"

Ursa pulled the door shut behind her, silencing Ozai's pleading. The only sounds were the hum of crickets, the soft coos of sleeping birds, and every so often the tap of a guard's boot. Shielding her face with Ozai's fan, Ursa stole through courtyards and corridors. She only thought of two things: her destination, and Zuko.

The door to the Fire Lords' inner sanctuary were guarded by a master firebender. She knew of tunnels and trapdoors, but she also knew how little time she had. Barefoot, moving with the lightness of a high-born lady, she crept up behind the guard and closed her twin swords around his throat.

"Your allegiance is to the new Fire Lord," she whispered. "Open the door, and don't make a sound."

"I would die for Fire Lord Azulon," the guard croaked.

"Very well." Ursa glazed the man's neck with the swords. "Are you entirely sure about that?"

"Please - mercy - please -" The guard clutched his bleeding throat. He opened the door for her, shaking.

"You keep watch," Ursa ordered.

The Fire Lord's bed was in the center of the room. Azulon slept with lights blazing, and a dagger at his bedside table. Ursa slipped close enough to tuck the dagger into her belt. _You won't be needing this_, she thought. She looked down and was surprised to see that her hands were not shaking. She licked her lips and did not taste sweat.

Azulon slept with his hands wrapped around himself. In sleep, his wrinkled brow was smooth and at peace. Ursa tried not to think of the same brow on Ozai's face. She thought instead of the brow she brushed the hair off of and kissed gently every night - Zuko's.

The old man's breathing changed, and without a second thought, Ursa brought the dual swords down. Her stomach lurched as the blood poured, but the Fire Lord was still alive. Choking for breath, he peered out of a haze of pain.

"You." His voice was nothing more than a drowning man's choke.

"If someone has to die tonight it won't be my son, Fire Lord," she said.


End file.
